Saturday, September 19, 2015

We’re
hearing a lot more about “indie authors” and “indie publishing”
these days. Although this has been going on for some time now, it has
usually consisted of unknown or newbie writers giving away e-books
for free or selling them for 99 cents. However, we’re now seeing an
interesting shift taking place—specifically major name authors
getting on board. You might ask why a bestselling author whom you’d
expect to be raking it in should wish to go the “DIY” route.
Well, when you consider that authors are among the very few working
professionals that spend several months to several years creating a
piece of work, only to earn a few paltry cents on the dollar in
income from it, it’s a wonder that anyone even bothers with
publishers (let alone literary agents) these days. The situation is
particularly egregious when it comes to digital royalties. Although
the so-called industry standard is still far too low, there are some
authors being paid digital rates that are downright criminal.
Unfortunately, I’m one of them.

Therefore
I too, have joined the ranks of the Indie Author. For me, the indie
publishing route isn’t just about getting a better return on my
investment, though that’s still a very important part of it. It’s
also about independence and creative freedom. It’s about having
control over how my book is marketed and how it is perceived by the
reading public. It’s about having full credit given to me for my
hard work, rather than seeing that credit being mistakenly given to
or hijacked by publishers, who (at least for my books) have nothing
to do with the creation or editorial direction of the work, but
merely handle the mechanics of it through to publication. Indie
publishing is about freedom from exploitation. It means getting a
fair deal rather than being the equivalent of a child in the Third
World working all hours in a sweatshop while someone else pockets the
profits.

I
launched my first major indie project back in 2012 with Normal
for Norfolk (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles)—the
first in my quirky crime/cozy mystery series co-written with my
celebrity sidekick bear, Teddy Tedaloo. I’m now pleased to announce
the release of the second installment—Rotten
Peaches (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles). The
series features protagonist Thelonious T. Bear, who’s a
pint-drinking, Mini-Cooper-driving British photojournalist bear (yes,
I said bear!)
who always seems to run into trouble wherever he goes. In the first
book it was village pub landlords being murdered in Norfolk, England.
This time it’s an armed gang of bank-robbing little people in the
American South. Thelonious definitely has a flair for being in the
wrong place at the wrong time—and with hilarious results!

Now
I’m not saying I’ll never work with a traditional publisher
again. There are some good publishers out there and I’d be happy to
work with them. But like many of my book-writing contemporaries, this
time I’ll make 100% sure I’m getting a fair publishing
deal—particularly with regard to digital royalties—before I place
my hard work with anyone.

Book
blurb for Rotten Peaches (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles):

“Animal
Dwarf Bandits” with Tommy Guns are on a crime spree in Georgia!

Dillinger-style
bank heists are being committed by a dangerous gang of little people
wearing animal masks. Enter ursine photojournalist Thelonious T.
Bear. Still smarting from his misadventures in Norfolk, he’s eager
to begin his assignment in the American South. However, Thelonious
soon learns that the South isn’t all fried chicken and sweet tea.
In between encounters with a trigger-happy farmer and a
fire-and-brimstone preacher with a snake, he’s stalked by a man in
a red pickup truck and nearly bear-napped by a family of hillbillies.
Thelonious’s resemblance to one of the bank bandits puts him on the
radar of Sheriff Maynard Grizzle and budding reporter Nate Jessop,
both of whom are convinced he’s in the gang. As the robberies gain
more media attention, locals smell fame in the air. Suddenly everyone
wants in on the action. And Thelonious finds himself at the heart of
yet another series of crimes!

Excerpt

By
late afternoon a tired and hungry Thelonious was ready to pack it in
for the day—until he saw the ruined timber barn. It was set well
back from the road in a field so long untended it actually seemed to
consume the structure. An oak tree had fallen onto the roof, causing
it to collapse. The tree was thriving and had even become part of the
barn, feeding new life into something left to die. Parking at the
edge of what once had been a driveway, Thelonious got out of the
Mini. He stood for a moment perusing the site. Slinging his camera
bag over one shoulder, he trundled forth into the overgrown field. A
No Trespassing sign lay on the ground, covered over with weedy
detritus. It was still attached to a chain that had fallen down
between two rotted posts. He passed right by, never seeing it.

Thelonious
photographed the barn from various angles, changing lenses as he saw
fit. Although the weight of his camera bag was a nuisance, he dared
not set it down for fear it would be swallowed by the overgrowth.
Approaching the barn’s entrance, he noticed several bales of hay
inside that had been left there to rot. Rust-covered farm implements
lay scattered about both inside and out. He included them in some of
the images, since they lent extra character to the scene. He even
captured a triangle of sunlight coming through the barn’s collapsed
roof as it returned the mouldering hay to its original golden
splendour, zooming in when a mouse poked its head out to feel the
sunshine on its whiskers. The light shifted and changed hue, adding
shadow, depth and richness to his compositions. Had Thelonious’s
attention not been caught by a ramshackle assemblage of containers
off to one side, he might’ve seen the figure skulking in the
shadows behind him.

A
rusty metal cylinder with a triangular-shaped lid had been set up in
a corner of the barn. An encrusted pipe had been attached to the top,
the elbow joint bending it sideways connecting it to a worm-eaten
wooden barrel; its remaining iron bands had turned green with
corrosion. Glass jugs and jam jars lay strewn about on the dirt
floor. Some looked as if they had mouse droppings on them.
Thelonious’s nostrils detected the odour of fermenting grains. It
appeared that he’d stumbled upon a moonshine still.

As
Thelonious framed it in his viewfinder, he heard a loud explosion. A
bullet whistled past his right ear, nearly taking his deerstalker hat
with it.

“Hold
it right thare!”

A
wiry old man with a shotgun stepped out from the shadows. He planted
himself solidly behind Thelonious. A long scraggly beard hung from
his chin; it would’ve been white if not for the dribbles of tobacco
juice. Thelonious was pretty sure he saw things moving in it.

The
ancient codger aimed the firearm at Thelonious’s chest, the brown
sticks of his arms surprisingly steady as they stuck out from his
tattered bib overalls. “This here’s private property!” he
shouted.

Thelonious
took a few steps back, feeling his bowels loosening. “I thought the
barn was abandoned?” he croaked.

“Abandoned?”
The old man spat into the dirt. “This here barn ain’t abandoned!”

“I
must’ve made a mistake.”

“Ah’ll
say y’all made a mistake! This here’s my farm!”

“Sorry.”

“Hmmph…”
The farmer squinted hard at his intruder, his creased face like a
dried plum above the beard.

Thelonious
shifted the camera bag to his other shoulder. “I’ll just be on my
way then.”

But
the farmer had other ideas. He moved nearer, closing the gap between
them. “Did that no ’count Bobby Ray Tuggle send y’all down here
to steal my corn liquor?”

“No!”
Thelonious shook his head until he thought it would fall off. The
cosy relationship between the old man’s index finger and the
shotgun’s trigger was making him nervous.

“Ah
shoot trespassers.” The farmer gave Thelonious a grisly brown grin.
“Shot me one last year. He’s buried out back of the barn. Wanna
see?”

About the Authors

Mitzi
Szereto is an author and anthology editor of multi-genre fiction and
non-fiction. She has her own blog Errant Ramblings: Mitzi Szereto's
Weblog, and a web TV channel Mitzi TV, which covers the “quirky”
side of London. Her books include Normal
for Norfolk (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles);Love,
Lust and Zombies;Darker
Edge of Desire: Gothic Tales of Romance;The
Wilde Passions of Dorian Gray; Thrones of Desire: Erotic Tales of
Swords, Mist and Fire;
Pride
and Prejudice: Hidden Lusts;Red
Velvet and Absinthe: Paranormal Erotic Romance;In
Sleeping Beauty’s Bed: Erotic Fairy Tales;Getting
Even: Revenge Stories;Dying
For It: Tales of Sex and Death
and Silk
Sheets: Collected Stories of Mitzi Szereto.

Teddy
Tedaloo is an author, celebrity teddy bear and the publisher and
editor ofThe
Teddy Tedaloo Times.
He’s also a trendsetter, world traveller, and the production
assistant extraordinaire/co-star of the web TV channel Mitzi TV.
Popular in social media circles such as Facebook and Twitter, he’s
known for his entertaining commentary and opinions as well as being
an advocate for animal welfare. He lives (and goes) wherever Mitzi
lives (and goes). He’s the co-author of Normal
for Norfolk (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles).Rotten
Peaches (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles) is
his second novel in the series.

It's a shame that authors are like so many other of the working poor. Making poverty level wages for working hard at something they love. I'm glad there is a way for you to up your "wages". Too bad so many others, ie theme park workers, restaurant workers, cashiers, or big box workers, receive poverty level wages to raise their families on while the company big wigs earn ginormous salaries and bonuses from the hard work of their employees.

Thanks so much for stopping by. Yeah, being an author does not mean being rich and famous, believe me! But I guess it's more fun that working as a cashier or in a factory (though some of us do that, too).